Lost
by queenstiel
Summary: Dean Winchester can tell when he's dreaming. He's been through too many dream-induced states for him to not be able to. So when he hears the flap of angel wings and a flash of a tan trench coat, he knows then that he's definitely dreaming.


**A/N: I have a kind of love-hate relationship with destiel. This is... kinda romantic but also kinda not? Idk, open to interpretation I guess.**

 **In other words, I'm not sure how I feel about the pairing itself, but I love writing for them, if that makes sense?**

 **Anyway, I'm a slut for angst and this is literally just over 4,000 words of pain. No fluff, no happy ending, just straight up pain. You're welcome.**

 **Enjoy..?**

* * *

 _ **Lost**_

 _ **by Angel Authoress**_

* * *

Dean Winchester can tell when he's dreaming. He's been through too many dream-induced states for him to not be able to.

So when he finds himself alone in the driver's seat of the Impala, with a distorted sound coming through the radio, he gets the feeling that he's in a dream of some sort.

And when he hears the flap of angel wings and a flash of a tan trench coat, he knows then that he's _definitely_ dreaming.

"Cas," Dean gasps out, trying his best to keep his eyes on the road and not on the angel that suddenly appeared beside him. Not that it matters much anyway; it's all a dream, after all.

Castiel looks at him and nods in acknowledgment. "Hello Dean."

He can hardly believe it. "Are you… are you really here?"

He remembers when Cas used to come see him in his dreams. Sometimes he would do it to warn him, other times just because he wanted to visit him. He had said before that he often found Dean's dreams entertaining and liked to bear witness to them. But ever since the Leviathan incident he hadn't been able to enter his mind. Was he capable now?

"I am here with you now, yes."

Dean shakes his head. "No, I mean… am I dreaming this? Or did you really come?"

Castiel shrugs. "Who knows? This is your dream Dean, whether or not I am real to you here is ultimately up to your subconscious."

"You used to visit my dreams," Dean tells him. "You would tell me things. Are you… are you trying to tell me something?"

Castiel goes quiet for a moment.

"There were many things I wanted to tell you, Dean. I just never got the chance."

"Like?"

He doesn't answer.

"I'm definitely dreaming," Dean concludes. "The real Cas isn't this hard to figure out."

"Then so be it."

Silence falls between them. He knows that this Cas isn't his, that his mind is just offering this scenario to him to provide him with a sense of comfort and peace. Still, he decides to indulge in it, even if only for a few fleeting moments.

He decides to start with the most pressing question on his mind. "Why'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Go after Lucifer with an angel blade. You had to know that that wouldn't work."

Castiel doesn't give it much thought before answering. "I had to try something, I suppose. I had to do whatever it takes to protect you and Sam."

Dean's bittersweet laughter fills the Impala. "Yeah, you always did, didn't you? You never once thought of yourself, did you?"

"Not when it came to protecting the two of you." Castiel looks over at him, an almost melancholic expression crossing his features. "But now I can't."

The headlights of the car passing by them illuminate the Impala and Dean swears that for a second, just for a split second, he can see the faint outline of Castiel's broken and torn wing against the window. It was impossible, considering that when Cas died he had no wings, but it's a dream, so he's learned to sort of just go with this sort of thing.

"Yeah, well we never asked you to protect us," Dean sternly reminds him.

"Why would you need to ask? If we are family as you say, isn't it expected for family members to protect one another?"

"You've been saving our asses for years, Cas. And yet… have we ever saved you?"

"Quite a few times, actually," Castiel admits. "You have saved me. In more ways than one."

Dean chooses to ignore that comment, although he knows he shouldn't.

Castiel chuckles mirthlessly. "It's funny. When I rescued you from the depths of Hell, the first thing I said was "Dean Winchester is saved!" Every angel heard me. And I rebuilt you, piece by piece, repairing your body and soul. And here we are, years later. Saving each other, over and over again, even when I did not deserve it."

Dean recalls the moment they met, and Castiel's words to him.

 _What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to be saved..?_

God, he can't even _look_ at him.

"I should've saved you," he chokes out.

"There was nothing you or anyone could've done. Do not blame yourself, Dean."

"I never should've let you go after Lucifer. Not on your own at least."

"Dean."

Dean freezes when he feels Castiel's hand on his shoulder. It's moving slowly up towards his neck and he flinches when his fingers nearly make contact with his skin.

"I don't regret what I did. If I am meant to die protecting the two of you, then so be it."

Dean swerves, slamming on the breaks as the Impala not so gracefully screeches to a stop in an empty motel parking lot. "Don't say that! Too many people have died because of us, Cas. Too damn many. And I'm not gonna let you-"

"You _will."_

Before Dean can retort, there's another flap of angel wings and Cas is gone.

* * *

The next time it happens, Sam is in this dream. Except he's about eight or nine years old and Dean is still thirty-seven.

It's late at night and they're having a picnic in a meadow with some junk food that Sam "bought" from the convenience store. Sam is preoccupied with pointing out the different constellations while Dean busies himself with a beer and some convenience store apple pie.

The flap of angel wings again.

"Hello Dean."

Dean nearly drops his beer. "You're back."

"So it seems." Cas turns his head to look at Sam, who hadn't noticed his presence. "Is this a memory?"

"No, not exactly," Dean admits. "Are you…"

Again, he doesn't answer. So Dean doesn't question it anymore. Whether or not it was "real" was starting to become less and less of an issue. Frankly, Dean was just glad that he could see him, even if this Cas was just a figment of his imagination, trying to console him and keep him grounded.

"Sam seems to be having fun," Castiel notes.

"Yeah," Dean says, "he's a kid sometimes in my dreams."

"Your dreams are quite entertaining," Castiel tells him. "Back when I still could, I would occasionally look into your mind to see what you were dreaming about."

"Kinda nosy, don't you think?" Dean asks, but he's not really expecting an answer. He smirks a bit as he takes another sip of his beer.

"Perhaps, but I couldn't help myself. Humans were still new to me and angels are unable to dream. Your imagination is fascinating."

"When you were human, did you dream?" Dean asks. He doesn't really know where the question came from but it's there now, out in the open.

Castiel nods. "Sometimes. They were mostly memories, but it was such an… interesting sensation. Although I did not enjoy the constant physical needs that came with being human, I was exposed to so many new feelings, thoughts, and ideas."

"Like?"

"As an angel, I was never allowed to let my emotions cloud my judgment. But then I became human, and I was suddenly learning new things about myself every day."

He remembers how awfully he'd treated Cas when he was human, and it still ate at him to this day. Throwing his best friend out into the world when he wasn't ready was hardly fair, even if it was to protect Sam. And during all that time, he'd missed him. He missed him a _lot._

But things were different now. Cas had a home and it was with them, and now he was gone.

"Cas, we are your home. Me, Sam, even Mom. We'll always be your home."

Dean looks at Sam as he excitedly shouts about a shooting star. "Dean, look! A shooting star! Quick, make a wish!"

He smiles warmly at him and closes his eyes. "I wish… I could've saved Cas. I wish I could've told him that I'm sorry for everything. I wish… I wish he was still here."

"You can't say your wish out loud, it won't come true," Sam chides with a childish pout.

Not that it really mattered anyway. No shooting star could grant his wishes. Hell, not even God himself could.

* * *

"So, is this gonna be a regular thing now?"

It's the third night in a row now that Dean has dreamed about Castiel. He's starting to think that these dreams aren't ever going to stop. And although at one point he thought he could accept that, now… now he wasn't so sure.

"That depends on you, Dean," Castiel replies idly.

In this dream, Dean was at some shitty motel. He and Sam had been hunting a shapeshifter (or wendigo, he couldn't remember and really, he didn't care). Sam was in the shower washing off the blood while Dean changed into some fresh clothes. And of course, Cas had decided to fly in right while he was taking his jeans off. _Great_.

"I'd really appreciate it if you could not just pop in while I'm changing clothes, man."

"My apologies, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Though to be fair, I have seen you naked before."

"Really not helping, Cas."

"Sorry."

Dean finishes pulling his shirt over his head before sitting on the bed across from Castiel. "Why do you never visit Sam's dreams?"

"I suppose it's because Sam doesn't dream of me often," Castiel ponders.

Dean knows exactly why. It'd be far too painful to do so. He almost wishes that he was able to do the same, but apparently his brain was dead-set on torturing him.

"Sam dreams about Mary a lot," Castiel continues. "He told me that once. I visited his dreams a few times when I was alive. I felt strange about interrupting dreams with her in them, so I merely watched as a spectator."

Dean doesn't know why this is happening. He doesn't know if his brain is just playing a cruel trick on him or if Castiel is really speaking to him through dreams. But right now, he doesn't care. He can see Cas like this, and it makes the days less painful and easier to get through.

"Oh well." He rises to his feet. "Cas, let's go get a beer."

Cas tilts his head and squints. Dean was starting to notice the little things about him that he never did before. "What about Sam?"

He waves a dismissive hand. "Sam will be fine, he's a big kid. Besides, this is just a dream. It doesn't matter." Dean wraps his arm around Cas' shoulder and walks him out to the Impala, and for the first time in a while, he smiles.

When they arrive at the bar, Dean finds that despite all of the dream-girls eyeing him up, he wasn't really in the mood. He wasn't really keen on having a sex dream right in front of Cas (even if it was just dream Cas). And for some strange reason, while those women were certainly attractive, he didn't really want much to do with them. He would save that for another time, on a night when Cas _didn't_ decide to invade his head.

"I remember the last time you got hammered," Dean says fondly as he downs his first shot. "You're a grumpy drunk when you're all angeled up, you know that?"

Castiel fidgets with his now empty shot glass. "I don't remember much, but it was not a pleasant feeling. I'd rather not do it again. It takes an entire liquor store to intoxicate me, after all."

Dean couldn't help but feel like the angel was bragging. "Well, this is just a dream after all. And it's _my_ dream. We can go to more than one liquor store."

Long story short, Dean ended up getting the angel (and himself) completely trashed. He wasn't quite sure how he could manage to feel the full effects of drunkenness in his sleep, but right now that hardly mattered. He liked this sassier version of Castiel, and in a bittersweet moment, he wished he had done this with him when he was alive.

"My head hurts."

"Hangovers will do that to you."

"Fuck you."

Hearing Cas swear like that had been rather unexpected, but Dean was hardly complaining. "Maybe some other time."

 _"_ _Dean."_

Needless to say, Dean wakes up that morning with a headache.

* * *

Dean finally decides to tell Sam about the dreams. The dream from the previous night had been so strong, had felt _so real_ that Dean wasn't even sure if he was just dreaming anymore.

"I've been dreaming about Cas for days now. _Days."_

Sam doesn't seem nearly as freaked out about this as he does. "That's normal. You miss him, it's to be expected-"

"No," Dean interrupts. "It's not like that. It's… _he talks to me_ , Sam. Like… it's like he knows he's in my dreams."

Sam leans against the table. "So what, you think he's communicating with you in your dreams?"

"I asked him that. I asked if he was really there. He wouldn't answer."

Sam sighs in exasperation. "Look, Dean, your mind is probably just trying to help you come to grips with what happened. We're both still grieving, so this is just a way of coping."

"It doesn't feel like that," Dean argues. "It feels so real, Sam. He's _just like Cas._ "

"You're remembering him how you need to."

Dean pointedly ignores the statement. "I'm telling you Sam, I think he's out there somewhere!"

Sam tenses at the suggestion. "Alive?"

"Maybe, but he might be able to tell us where he is. And if he does, then we can figure out how to get there. Sam, this might be the way to save him!"

"Slow down for a sec," Sam says, trying to keep the idea that Dean has within reason. "You're getting ahead of yourself here. If you really think that Cas is trying to reach you, then see if you can ask him where he is."

Truth be told, there was no way that Cas could be alive, he was there when they buried his body (they had opted for a burial on the off-chance that he could come back) and he was most definitely dead. He wasn't in Purgatory, Hell, and definitely not Heaven. But even so, despite being a natural skeptic, Dean tried to be open to all possibilities when presented with reasonable cause. And if there was even a slight chance that Cas was out there somewhere, alive or not, he would take it.

* * *

In the next dream, he's at a park of some sort. As expected, Cas is quick to join him on the bench. However, before the angel can speak, Dean is quick to interrupt him. "Alright Cas, no more games. Tell me where you are."

Castiel frowns, his brows furrowing together in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

"Where are you? You have to be somewhere. Sam and I can save you if you just give us some sort of sign. Anything that might help lead us to you."

"Save me? Dean, I've been dead for almost a month now. I am far beyond saving."

Dean shakes his head. "No, Cas, I mean tell us where you are _now."_

"I don't know. I do not know where angels go after they die. No one does."

"Okay, then… describe where you are to me, in detail."

Castiel pauses to think for a moment. "I'm here Dean, in the park. With you."

 _That was definitely a Cas-like answer._

"Cas please. It doesn't matter where, just _tell me._ We can get to you."

Castiel places a hand on Dean's shoulder, looking him in the eyes as he spoke. "You can't. I can assure you Dean, wherever angels go when they die… it is a place that not even you can reach."

"Wanna bet?"

Castiel turns to face the park. "Do you remember when I came back from Purgatory? You thought it was your fault. You thought you had left me behind. But I just didn't feel like I deserved to be saved, I felt like I had to stay."

"So what, you're punishing yourself?"

No response.

Dean can feel his frustration growing. "Damn it Cas, look at me!"

The angel refuses to meet his eyes, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground.

"Have you ever even thought that maybe I want to save you too? You save us all the time, whether we want you to or not! So don't be such a damn hypocrite…"

Castiel turns to look at him again, and his expression is almost deadly serious. But there's sadness in his eyes, a sadness that Dean knew had always been there but had never seen until now. "Dean. I want to come home."

He's probably a little more excited by that than he should be. "Then let us help you-"

"I can't. Because in reality, I'm dead, and I have been for a while. You're dreaming Dean, that's all this is. A dream. A scenario that you've created to cope with me being gone."

Dean's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. "No no, that can't be true. You… you've been _talking_ to me Cas, I know it, this… this is _real…_ "

Castiel smiles sympathetically at him. "It's not. As much as we both wish it was, it's not. But…" he gestures to their surroundings, "this is your way of grieving. You're allowed to be upset. You live a life of repression and sublimation, after all."

He must know Cas pretty well then, because his mind had done a damn good job of tricking him. Of course he does- he knows Cas almost like he knows Sam.

He and Cas haven't taken their eyes off each other. His brain had gotten every detail of him right, because when Cas spoke, he looked the other person directly in the eye, like he was staring into their soul. He felt it every time he locked eyes with the angel, like Cas was looking right through him. Cas looks so damn sincere and Dean feels like he's losing control, like this wasn't just his dream anymore. This was cold hard reality, slapping him in the face. "Please just tell me that you're not lying. Being crazy I can take, but not doing anything when you're out there somewhere? There's no way. If there's a way to save you and I missed it because I wasn't looking, then I won't be able to live with that Cas. I won't. So please… don't lie to me. Is this real?"

"Dean. This is your mind attempting to ease your guilt. Because you know, both here and in the real world, that I wouldn't let you feel guilty about this. Not for one second."

"Cas-"

Cas holds up a finger. "Let me finish. As my friend, you feel obligated to protect me. I understand. But laying down my life for you? For Sam? For this world? It was the greatest sacrifice I've ever made. And I don't regret it."

"It wasn't a sacrifice!" Dean argues. He can feel tears brewing in his eyes. He rapidly blinks them away. "You didn't want to die, Cas, there's no way…"

"Perhaps not. But you do have a tendency to remember things the way you need to. And for you, the easiest way to cope is to paint yourself as the guilty one. The one responsible."

Dean chuckles dryly. "You just don't get it Cas. You never have. It's why we hardly agree on anything. You're family, you are the best friend that I've ever had. No one has ever stuck with Sam and I as long as you have. Even when we pushed you away, even when you had no reason to come back, you always did, regardless of the reason. It's because of that that I have to have your back, to keep you _safe_ -"

"There's nothing you could've done," Cas argues. "No matter what you say, no matter what you feel, nothing could have saved me. Regardless of the reason that I went after Lucifer, regardless of if I wanted to live or not, that fact remains true. You mean too much to this world to continue on like this. I won't expect you to listen, you have never been particularly good at that, but I will ask this."

The air suddenly feels warm and Dean feels like he's coming home all over again. The surroundings have changed again. He's not at a park anymore. He's _home_ , at the bunker.

"You will look after the Nephilim Jack. Sam is right, he will be useful in helping you find your mother. I have faith that he can be good if you show him the right way. And you will stop looking for me."

"Cas, I'm sorry, but that's not gonna happen."

"It is Dean, or these dreams won't ever stop."

"Is that a threat?"

"If it were, you'd be threatening yourself. Remember Dean, this isn't real. Your dreams are coping mechanisms. The image of me that you see is a manifestation of your subconscious, working you through your own guilt and turmoil. And what I am asking you to do is the most logical next step."

"Bullshit," Dean argues, stepping closer to the angel. "This isn't a coping mechanism, this is _torture._ Do you know what it's like for me to have to see your face every night, and be reminded of when Lucifer gutted you right in front of me?"

"Perhaps," Castiel admits, "but it's necessary. Like I said, you are prone to repression. You do not share your feelings with Sam, who has offered to help, I presume. Remember, this was just as much of a loss for him as it was for you-"

"No it was _not_ ," Dean retorts. He's not quite sure where it came from, but he's not surprised considering that this was some weird mental torture chamber that this imaginary subconscious dream-Cas had conjured up. "I just want this to stop. If this isn't real… if this isn't the real you, then please… no more. I can't do it anymore. Cas, I watch you die over and over again, all the time. The same scene plays out in my head again, and again, and again. But you wanna know what's even worse? Knowing that I couldn't do anything. Being so powerless, so weak, that I couldn't even defend you. The one who would die for us without so much as a second thought, and I couldn't, for once, do him right this time. I think about it every day, but if I'm here, seeing you every night and being reminded that I failed someone that I-" He pauses to collect himself. Even now, even after Cas has long since died, he can't bring himself to say the word. The dream-Cas before him looks so much like the real one that it makes him almost physically ill, so saying anything of that sort was out of the question anyway.

"Dean," Castiel's voice is almost a slow drawl, "you're crying."

He's surprised when he reaches up to touch his face and feels wet streaks of tears.

Cas vanishes, and Dean is immediately thrown into consciousness. The familiar surroundings of his bedroom start to come into view.

He's not quite as surprised when he finds that he's still crying.

* * *

"Sam."

Sam looks up from the article he was reading. His rather bored expression quickly shifted to one of concern when he took in Dean's appearance. "Dean, are you okay?"

Dean laughs humorlessly at that. "No."

Sam isn't quite sure what to make of it. Dean's mood swings were unpredictable as of late. "Well… what's wrong?"

"It was never real. All that time I spent talkin' to Cas… I was just talkin' to myself."

Sam's trying to keep from pointing out that he had been right, knowing that it would hardly be appropriate in this scenario. "I'm sorry. Really, I am. Losing Cas has been… I can't even begin to describe it Dean. But maybe this time… maybe we should consider the idea that he might not be coming back."

"Yeah," Dean chokes out, "I know. He told me that, in my dream last night. That I should just accept that he's dead."

"Sounds like a Cas thing to say," Sam says idly.

"But I _can't._ I don't expect you to get it, but Cas is-"

"I know," he interrupts. "Cas was… important to you. He was important to both of us, but, in his own words… you guys had a 'profound bond'."

Dean smiles fondly at the memory. "I couldn't do anything. I just stood there, like an idiot, while Lucifer just…" He feels his eyes burning again, much like he did in last night's dream. "I was helpless. But even if I could've… nothing would've been able to save him. And I… I see him Sammy. I see him die all the time, over and over and _over_ -"

"It's alright."

"Cas is gone."

"…I know."

"Everyone's gone," he continues. "Cas… Mom… even Crowley… everyone. Sam… what do we do?"

Sam had been shocked by Dean's sudden display of feelings, but what was more surprising to him than anything was Dean asking him what to do next. He hardly ever saw such vulnerability in his brother. But for the first time in a long time, neither of them had an idea of what to do, where to go.

Sam tries to think of the right thing to say, but not much comes to mind. "We have to find Jack. We have to save Mom. But before any of that… you can't go on like this. It's alright to be upset."

Sam pulls him into an embrace, and the dam that had been holding it all back, the hopelessness, the self-hatred, the _guilt_ \- began to crack.

* * *

 **A/N: I decided to leave whether or not Cas was "really there" ambiguous, as I have no plans to continue this. hopefully you guys enjoyed though!**


End file.
